


Every Journey Leads You Back To Where You Start

by CriticalRolemance (LiveLaughLoveLarry)



Series: Sorcery and Cynicism [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Affection, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Campaign 1 (Critical Role), Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Innuendo, Kissing, M/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-18 21:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22200427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLaughLoveLarry/pseuds/CriticalRolemance
Summary: Vax will always be leaving. But Gilmore will always be waiting for him when he comes home.aka the “Shopping and Shipping” episode but as an established relationship AU and with more kissing~*~*~“Will you stay with me tonight?” Gilmore asks as they walk, hands twined together.Vax sighs thoughtfully. It’s tempting. It’s so tempting. But… “It’s been too long since I’ve slept in my own bed.”“You slept in your own bed last night.”“I actually fell out halfway through. I was absolutely shitfaced.”Gilmore laughs. “All right, all right, I get it. You don’t need me.”“That is absolute horseshit and you know it,” Vax says. “I need you desperately. I just also need my pillows.”“You could bring your pillows.”“Needy, aren’t you?” Vax says, brushing a finger under Gilmore’s chin. Gilmore grins.“Always.”
Relationships: Shaun Gilmore/Vax'ildan
Series: Sorcery and Cynicism [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633927
Comments: 8
Kudos: 124





	Every Journey Leads You Back To Where You Start

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted something soft and gentle and sweet and fluffy and warm because it’s what these boys deserve. It’s what we all deserve.
> 
> Title is from [“Already Home”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JfO6Gtk7t0o) written by Andrew Lloyd Webber for the Wizard of Oz musical. Home is a place in your heart…

Vax is the first one across the threshold into Gilmore’s Glorious Goods, craning his head to catch a glimpse of the man himself.

“He’s not here,” Vex says, stepping in behind him. 

Vax elbows her. “He’s here somewhere.”

“An interesting proposition,” Vex says, “belied only by one small thing.”

“He’s not here?” Grog offers.

“He is not, in fact, here.”

“He’s probably in the back,” Vax says, striding towards the large desk at the back of the room. A saleslady moves to block his path, but he brushes past, tugging the rope attached to a small bell which chimes bright and clear.

“That isn’t necessary,” the saleslady says sourly. “Master Gilmore is very busy with several custom orders; I can help you with any-”

And then the curtain sweeps open, and Vax stops listening.

Shaun Gilmore is a sight for sore eyes, and Vax hadn’t realized quite how sore his eyes were. He’s immaculately dressed, as always; ornate purple robes trimmed with intricate golden embroideries and edgings, hanging open at the chest to reveal bronzed skin and the faintest dusting of hair. Several gold chains and medallions are draped around his neck, the overall effect one of luxury, comfort, and power. 

Vax has to check to make sure he’s not drooling.

Gilmore is wearing his customer-service smile, every inch the charming businessman, but as soon as he spots Vax, his eyes light up. The smile widens, becoming warmer and more genuine, and he strides forward to pull him into a tight hug.

“Vax’ildan, my dear boy, you’ve returned!” 

Vax hugs him back, breathing in his unique scent of incense and herbs and something he can only describe as magic. “I always do,” he says. They both choose to ignore the possibility that someday, he might not.

Gilmore pulls back, keeping one arm around Vax’s waist as he turns to look at the rest of the group. “Vox Machina, back in town,” he says, grinning broadly. “And all in one piece, no less.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Grog says, chuckling. 

Gilmore laughs too, and Vax suspects he’s the only one to hear the faint nervousness that rings through it. “I’m sure,” he says. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.”

“I’d be glad to,” Vax says. “Feel like playing hooky? We need a bit of a restock, but I’m sure my sister can handle things for me here, and you’ve got plenty of, ah,  _ helpful _ staff.” He can feel the saleslady’s eyes burning into him at the dig, but he ignores her in favour of the much more pleasant sight of Gilmore’s golden face. “I would love to take a stroll with you around the city, get a bit of lunch. Can you take the afternoon off?”

“Master Gilmore is a very busy man,” the saleslady says, her expression pinched. “He can’t just take an afternoon off whenever someone asks.”

“Sherri,” Gilmore says, his voice warning. “Vax’ildan is very dear to me, and is never a bother. See that you remember that. And remember who pays your wages.”

Sherri looks like she’s just swallowed a whole lemon, though only slightly more so than before. “Yes, sir.”

“Be so kind as to see to whatever our friends need,” he says, motioning to the group. “These are Vox Machina -- perhaps you’ve heard of them? Heroes of Emon at least twice over, that sort of thing. See to it that they are well taken care of.”

Sherri’s expression doesn’t change. “Yes, sir.”

Vax grins at Gilmore. “You’re terrible,” he says. “So naughty.”

“Perhaps you’re rubbing off on me.”

Vax’s grin widens. “Well, now that you mention it…”

“Out,” Vex says, pointing at the door. “I love you, brother, and I love you, Gilmore, but there are certain things a sister simply does  _ not  _ need to know. Or see. Or hear. Come back when you’ve gotten it out of your system.”

A part of Vax wants to stick around, just a few moments longer, just to needle his sister, but most of him wants Gilmore all to himself, as soon as possible. He glances up at Gilmore. “What do you say?” he says. “Lunch?”

“For you, my dear?” Gilmore says. “Anything.”

~*~*~

They make it just out of the shop before Gilmore is grabbing Vax by the waist, spinning him around, and pressing him against the wall to kiss him thoroughly. 

Vax hums contentedly, running his fingers along the lush embroidery of Gilmore’s robes. “You do realize,” he murmurs between kisses, “that we’re not  _ actually  _ out of sight, if they should happen to look out a window.”

“Do you care?”

“Not in the slightest.” He punctuates the words with a particularly deep kiss, digging his fingers into Gilmore’s back and tugging at his robes. 

Gilmore’s breath stutters, his eyes fluttering and flickering. He coughs. “I’ve just had an idea,” he says, his voice suddenly an octave lower and with just a hint of breathiness. “What say we skip the stroll and the lunch and sneak in the backdoor?”

“That sounds like an innuendo,” Vax says, and Gilmore chuckles.

“I was aiming for a euphemism, but I’m not picky.”

“Well, I am.” With a quick twist, Vax is suddenly behind Gilmore. “Lunch. I haven’t eaten real food in a  _ week_. Just cave rations. So flavourless.”

“Appalling,” Gilmore says, shaking his head as he turns with a fond smile. “All right, I can fix that. I know a little place. You’ll like it.” 

“You always know a little place,” Vax says. “And I always like it.”

“Now who’s making innuendos?”

“You started it!”

Vax laughs. “Well, we’ll finish it later. For now, I really do want some lunch.”

Gilmore groans, pushing himself away from the wall. “All right, all right, I’m coming,” he says. “The way you treat me, Vax’ildan.”

“I thought  _ you _ were going to treat  _ me_.” 

“Precisely. And this is the thanks I get.” 

Vax stops suddenly, taking both of Gilmore’s hands in his own. “Thank you,” he says, his voice soft and sincere and urgent. “For everything. For your kindness and your wisdom and your skills. For your softness and your strength. For your smile and your seriousness. I don’t say it enough, you’re right, but I truly do appreciate it, and you.”

Gilmore’s smile is soft as he runs his thumb over the back of Vax’s hand. “I know you do, my love,” he says. “It’s nice to hear it, though.”

“You should hear it more often,” Vax says. “I’ll work on that.”

“I’d like that,” Gilmore says. “And in the meantime -- lunch. Wait til you see -- it’s attached to this lovely botanical garden where they grow all their produce, and you can really taste the freshness.”

Vax smiles, dropping one of Gilmore’s hands, but keeping a tight grip on the other and lacing their fingers together. “Sounds perfect,” he says. “Lead the way.”

~*~*~

Lunch is indeed perfect, as it always is when Gilmore recommends something. There’s a beautiful spring salad, plates piled high with fruit, and sweet pastries for dessert. They playfully feed each other a few bites, but quickly decide the food is far too good to waste by spilling. And Vax is hungry. Very hungry. They content themselves with holding hands, playing footsie under the table, and the occasional stolen kiss between bites.

As they eat, Vax tells Gilmore all about their subterranean adventures, of duergar and illithid and beholders. Gilmore’s expression teeters between fascination and fear, and he holds tightly to Vax’s hand the whole time. When he’s finished, Gilmore updates him on the developments towards a second location of Gilmore’s Glorious Goods in Westruun, bolstered by Vax’s exuberant congratulations.

“Will there be a party for the grand opening?” he asks.

“Naturally,” Gilmore says, laughing. “You know me. That won’t be for some months yet, of course, but as soon as I have a date, there’ll be seven invitations at your doorstep.”

“Seven?”

“You’re my plus one, of course.”

Vax laughs. “Does that mean I’ll have to be hanging off your arm the whole evening? Show me off to all of Westruun?”

“As if you would rather be anywhere else.”

“Mmmm.” Vax leans in for another kiss, one that tastes sticky sweet with strawberries and honey. “There is that.”

It’s pleasant, almost dreamy, and Vax would be more than happy to spend the entire afternoon like that. Eventually, however, they drag themselves out of their seats and begin the walk back to Gilmore’s shop. 

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Gilmore asks as they walk, hands twined together.

Vax sighs thoughtfully. It’s tempting. It’s  _ so _ tempting. But… “It’s been too long since I’ve slept in my own bed.”

“You slept in your own bed last night.”

“I actually fell out halfway through. I was absolutely shitfaced.”

Gilmore laughs. “All right, all right, I get it. You don’t need me.”

“That is absolute horseshit and you know it,” Vax says. “I need you desperately. I just also need my pillows.”

“You could bring your pillows.”

“Needy, aren’t you?” Vax says, brushing a finger under Gilmore’s chin. Gilmore grins.

“Always.”

The kiss is short and sweet, yet somehow filthy at the same time, all tongue and teeth and touch. 

“Careful,” Gilmore says as Vax pulls back. His voice is low and gravelly, all pretense of grandiosity wiped away. “If you keep this up, your friends might be waiting quite some time for our return.”

Vax laughs. “Wouldn’t want that,” he agrees. He presses one more soft kiss to Gilmore’s lips, then slips out of his arms and skips away, leaving Gilmore shaking his head as he follows.

“You’re going to be the death of me, one of these days,” he says. 

Vax loops back, tucking an arm through Gilmore’s. “True,” he says. “But what a glorious death.”

“Scanlan will compose epic poems in our honour.”

“He already is, just so you know.”

“I figured as much.” Gilmore grimaces. “Remind me to never irritate the little fellow. I really don’t need to hear that.”

“I should be so lucky,” Vax says, crooking a sideways grin. “He likes to keep us, ah, ‘entertained’ during long days of travel. Nevermind that there could be an umber hulk around any corner.” He grimaces. “To be fair, irritating the little fellow is almost a professional pursuit for me. Also, if you don’t want to irritate him -- don’t call him ‘little’ to his face. He’s a  _ little _ sensitive.”

Gilmore chuckles. “Noted,” he says. “Well, shall we face the music?” He motions ahead, and Vax is astonished to realize they’ve already made it back to the shop.

“I suppose we should,” Vax says, sighing melodramatically. “Don’t let it go to your head, but as much as I love my friends, I much prefer being alone with you.”

Gilmore coughs, his cheeks flushing. “I told you,” he says huskily, “that can be arranged. Really, no arranging necessary. That’s always an open invitation.”

Vax chuckles. “Again,” he says, “very tempting. But also again -- my own bed.”

“You’re just toying with my emotions.”

“Guilty.” Vax gives him a winning smile, batting his eyes. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Gilmore’s eyes are soft as he looks at him. “No,” he says at last. “I really wouldn’t.”

~*~*~

After two hours of tossing and turning, Vax accidentally throws a pillow out the window. He rolls onto his back, groaning in frustration. The temperature is perfect, his mattress is luxuriously comfortable (particularly after so many weeks sleeping on rocky cave floors), it’s dark and quiet and still and  _ safe _ … and he can’t sleep at all. The quiet is  _ too _ still, the temperature  _ too _ perfect, the bed just a little  _ too _ big.

Vax glances at the night table, then back to the ceiling. He shouldn’t. Gilmore is probably fast asleep, probably doesn’t want to be bothered. He always insists he needs his beauty rest, though Vax tells him he’s beautiful enough already. 

If he’s quiet, though. Not enough to wake him. Just to check if he’s up.

He reaches for the egg-shaped crystal on his night table, grey and smooth and just slightly translucent. He runs his finger idly over the surface, then squeezes it. It shouldn’t give under his fingers -- it’s rock, after all -- but it does, just slightly, a dim glow emanating from the core.

“Shaun?” he whispers. “You up?”

There’s a moment of silence, then a murmured. “Vax’ildan, my dear. Weren’t you supposed to be getting a lovely night’s rest in your own bed?”

“Tried that,” Vax said. “Funny thing.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“It’s not like you’re doing much better.”

Gilmore chuckles. “Do you want to come over?”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Vax says, grinning. “Or -- actually, it’s probably faster if you come here.”

“To Greyskull?” Gilmore sounds amused. “Bit immodest, don’t you think? The walls aren’t that thick.”

Vax chuckles. “Positively scandalous,” he says. “In all seriousness, Shaun, what are they going to overhear, us cooing endearments at each other? It’s not like we’re going to be fucking each other’s brains out. As much as I’m looking forward to that soon, I’m exhausted tonight. And still a bit sore from yesterday’s fighting. What with the almost dying and all.”

“When are you not almost dying?”

“Touché.”

“Work on that, will you? I’d quite like to have the option of growing old together.”

It’s a nice thought. Vax tries not to dwell on it.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says. “In the meantime, back to the point at hand. You should come over. Vex will waggle her eyebrows at us when you come down for breakfast, Grog will make an off-colour joke, Scanlan will probably start warbling a terribly cheesy ballad. I’ve faced worse.”

“The almost dying thing again?”

“Yeah,” Vax says, grimacing. “Bit worse than some friendly ribbing. But almost dying beats actually dying. By quite a bit.”

There’s a beat of silence. “It does,” Gilmore says at last. “But it still gives me grey hairs just thinking about it. And I’m too young to start dying my hair yet.”

“You dyed your hair purple last summer.”

“I’m too young to start dying my hair its own colour,” Gilmore amends. “And growing old together is much harder to do if you give me a heart attack worrying.”

They both know that’s not the most likely roadblock. Vax doesn’t want to think too hard about it.

“Are you coming?” he asks instead.

He hears a rustle of fabric and then a few whispered words in a language he can’t quite understand. “I’m on my way,” Gilmore says, and the stone goes dark.

Vax smiles, and lies back to wait.

~*~*~

He’s almost dozed off when he hears the footsteps land at his window. They’re whisper-quiet, but his ears are sharp and he sleeps lightly. Still, he pretends not to hear, keeps his breathing steady as he hears Gilmore tiptoe slowly towards him. He can smell the perfume and incense that hangs from Gilmore’s clothes and hair, and he smiles. It smells like home.

The silence is suddenly interrupted by a clatter of metal on stone. Gilmore swears under his breath, and Vax can’t help bursting into laughter as he sits up to survey the scene. Gilmore looks up at him, chagrined, and motions to a candlestick lying on the floor.

“Knocked the blasted thing over in the dark,” he says. “Were you awake the whole time?”

“You know, candles work better if they’re lit,” Vax says, motioning Gilmore closer. He’s wearing nothing but a pair of loose, flowing trousers, which Vax suspects he threw on before he left, so as not to be flying over Emon completely nude. Gilmore has never been much of one for modesty (or pajamas), but he does favour some degree of propriety. “And yes, I was. You’re quiet, but not as quiet as me, my dear.”

“Lit candles are much more dangerous to trip over.”

“If it had been lit, you wouldn’t have tripped.”

“Oh, stop being reasonable, shut up and kiss me.”

Vax is more than willing to accept that compromise. He pulls Gilmore down onto the bed with him, feeling his comforting weight pushing him down into the mattress. Gilmore’s kisses are fervent, his mouth warm and tender and smelling sweetly of cardamom. Soft noises of pleasure and desire slip from his throat as he greedily drinks Vax in.

“Always so eager,” Vax murmurs, rough and low. He knows Gilmore loves his voice like this, and he’s rewarded by a soft groan and a shudder. “It’s only been a few hours. You’d think you hadn’t seen me for weeks.”

“I hadn’t,” Gilmore pants between kisses. “I’m making up for lost time.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world, my love,” Vax says, and for a moment he believes it might be true. He’s a very good liar, even to himself.

Gilmore doesn’t question him, just kisses him harder, deeper, longer. Vax loses himself in the feeling of the man’s touch on his skin, lines of fire up his back and through his hair. 

They separate when Vax begins to yawn, which makes kissing much more difficult. Gilmore moves to pressing soft lips to his forehead, his cheeks, his hair.

“Rest, my boy,” he says. “Rest with me. Rest in safety.”

It feels so good to be able to sleep without fearing umber hulks or mind flayers or duergar. To be wrapped in the warm arms of his lover, pressed against his skin. To know that Gilmore will protect him -- and better yet, that he won’t have to.

Vax sleeps better than he has in weeks. 


End file.
